


Poisoning (FebuWhump 07)

by SylvanFreckles



Series: Freckles' FebuWhump 2021 [7]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor whump, Febuwhump 2021, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Poisoning, connor gets poisoned, nongraphic vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanFreckles/pseuds/SylvanFreckles
Summary: Connor, already suffering from an injury occurred in the line of duty, is put in further danger when he’s unknowingly given tainted thirium.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Freckles' FebuWhump 2021 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139234
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Poisoning (FebuWhump 07)

**Author's Note:**

> All of my DBH fanfics tie together in the same universe, where the central android repair workshop is a place known as The Facility. You can read about the Facility in "Critical Component", where Hank discovers what a hellish place it is.

Connor settled into the chair at his desk, still cradling his damaged arm carefully. “I'm fine, Hank.”

Hank was already shaking his head and tugging the android first-aid kit out from under his desk. “Kid, you had nearly half a ton of dead weight hanging from that arm half an hour ago. It's not okay.”

“My internal structure is rated to withstand pressure of up to-”

“You heard what the tech said,” Hank interrupted. “All that weight on your...your servos or joints or whatever.”

With a frown, Connor glanced down at his arm. His internal structure would have taken the weight of the falling cargo container easily, had the floor not given way at that moment. So the container caught him on the shoulder, and before he could push himself free some of the trailing cables had twisted around his arm. There had been a horrible, grinding jerk when he'd stopped, just for a moment, essentially holding the ancient shipping container in place with one arm...then the cables had sheared away his exo-plating and broken two of his fingers as the container plunged into the depths of Lake Michigan.

The DPD tech that had responded to their call was supposed to bring replacement plating to patch over what had been torn away, and Connor's healing program would handle the rest. Except replacing the lost thirium, of course.”

“Damn it,” Hank shoved the first aid box away with a grunt. “Must've used it already.”

“There's some in the break room,” Connor offered and started to stand, but his partner held a hand up and nearly pushed him back into his seat.

“I've got it. You just...sit there.”

Connor complied, a bit gratefully, truth be told. He hadn't told Hank or the tech, but the jarring weight of the cargo container's fall had caused microfractures throughout much of his internal structure. Nothing that wouldn't be healed in a few hours...but it still hurt.

“Here we go!” Hank announced. He twisted the lid off the bottle of thirium and handed it to Connor with a flourish. “Tech said you need at least two, but there's a whole case in there if you need more.”

“Thanks, Hank,” Connor said with a sigh. He took a long swallow of the thirium and grimaced a little at the texture. It was too thick, and almost sweet. He pulled the bottle away and stared at the label—there were companies other than Cyberlife trying to provide android necessities these days, and this was a brand he hadn't tried before. Maybe they didn't let an actual android test their product before shipping it. Thirium wasn't something he'd ever enjoyed the taste of before, but this was downright disgusting.

Hank was watching him, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Connor tried to give his partner a reassuring glance and downed the rest of the bottle, not quite able to hide the shudder as the last of the thick, cloying liquid passed his lips. The thirium sat heavily in his internal resevoir, like it was too dense to circulate.

“You want the next one?” Hank asked as he reached for the bottle.

“Not yet,” Connor protested, blocking his partner's hand. “I think...I think this brand is too concentrated.”

“Yeah?” Hank picked the bottle of thirium up and squinted at the information on the label. “Hell, I can't tell what any of this says. We need to thin it out or something?”

Connor's stomach churned, warnings flickering at the edges of his vision. “Not that...simple...” he groaned. Error messages flashed before his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach and doubled over as his entire body seized up.

“Connor? Hey, kid!” Hank was crouching in front of him now, hands on Connor's shoulders, trying to see into his face. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Con...tam-taminated,” Connor managed to rasp out.

“Contaminated?” Hank's voice rose even as Connor tried to curl away from him. “What the hell?”

Everything lurched, then twisted, and before Connor could reach his trashcan he was vomiting blue blood down the front of his shirt.

Hank swore again and shoved the trashcan between Connor's bent knees. “We need a tech in here!” he hollered over his shoulder.

There was blood in his mouth, lingering on his tongue as he heaved up another mouthful. With mental effort Connor turned on his analysis software and the thirium's composition flooded across his vision.

Ethylene, propylene, butylene, hexylene...it was antifreeze. The thirium had been spiked with antifreeze, though from the taste and consistency it was more accurate to say a bottle of antifreeze had been contaminated with thirium.

“Thirium,” he gasped, voice cracking on another retch and he bent over to spit a mouthful of blue blood into the trashcan. “It's...”

“We've got it, kid,” Hank said. One of the man's big hands was resting on Connor's shoulders, gently sweeping back and forth. It was oddly comforting, though he couldn't quite explain why. “They're hauling the whole damn case down to the lab. Fuck, this is bad.”

“I told you to take it easy, Connor.” The new voice was from a short, stocky man in the all-too-familiar uniform of the DPD android technicians.

“Thirium's bad, Frank,” Hank replied. “Someone put antifreeze in, ruined the whole batch.”

Francisco Jimenez—Frank to his friends—sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Connor, I need to check your thirium levels, is that all right?”

Connor let out a weary nod and leaned back enough for the tech to push his shirt aside and deactivate the panel over his chest compartment. Frank pulled a handheld monitor off of his belt and attached the delicate cable to a nearly invisible port on the housing for Connor's thirium pump.

The android groaned and Hank let out a weary chuckle. “Careful, Frank. He might blow on you.”

“Eh, I've had worse than some bad thirium on me before,” Frank retorted, winking at Connor. He frowned at the screen from the monitor when it finally beeped and gently pulled the wire free, replacing Connor's chest panel. “Sorry, kid. Thirium levels are down to about seventy percent, which is an easy fix...but it looks like contamination's spread through the rest of your supply.”

“What does that mean?” Hank cut in.

Frank had already stowed the handheld monitor and pulled his phone out instead. “Afraid he needs his entire supply flushed and replaced, and I'm detecting some impaired thirium flow so some of the smaller pumps might be damaged. Might need some lines replaced too, and that's just a little above what we can handle here.”

“Come on, you just need to replace it,” Hank protested. “Just pump the bad stuff out and put good stuff in, right?”

“It's not that simple,” the tech explained with a sigh. “Look, Hank...you ever see what antifreeze does if you put it in your gas tank? That stuff's a lot heavier than thirium. As soon as it entered his circulatory system it started gumming everything up. Connor needs his entire thirium supply replaced, and we just can't do that here—not if we don't know how much of our stock is contaminated. And he needs his lines flushed and cleaned to get that crap out of him; antifreeze doesn't just evaporate like thirium does. I'm sorry, he just needs more repairs than we can handle.”

Connor hadn't realized he'd grabbed Hank's arm until the older man flinched from the sudden pressure. “Not the facility?” he whispered, desperately. “Please?”

He could still remember the feeling from his last repair. Being shut down but conscious, strapped to a table while harsh, unfeeling hands touched his biocomponents. Voices overhead, discussing how expensive he was, how much money they could make off of his blueprints, how much Hank would sell him for. William Adair, the chief technician, boasting about the offer he was going to make Hank, as no mere _detective_ could understand how important this piece of technology was.

Hank had shifted a hand to his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Jericho?” he suggested.

Frank was already shaking his head. “Sorry, kiddo. I get the newsletter, Josh is doing some impressive things over there, but they're not ready for this kind of work. I'll talk to him at the next meeting, maybe we can figure something out for next time.”

“There won't be a next time,” Hank growled. “Whoever did this is gonna wish they'd never been born when I get through with 'em.”

“Yeah, well, save some for the rest of us,” Frank retorted. “Ambulance is on its way, and I've gotta see about recalling two dozen android officers to make sure their emergency supplies aren't tainted. Someone could have done a lot of damage with this stunt.”

Hank snorted. His hand hadn't left Connor's shoulders, gently rubbing back and forth even as Connor hunched over the trashcan again. “Yeah, they already did.”

**Author's Note:**

> The whole poisoning thirium with antifreeze was mentioned in the holiday fic "Candlelight", see how it all ties together? 
> 
> I kind of went for a cross between antifreeze poisoning in the human body and what happens if you put antifreeze in your gas tank. I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> I don't know, I could go on with a part two with all the body horror of having your veins irrigated at the horrible android hospital while the horrible little man with his hands in your chest cavity keeps talking about how much he'd like to take your organs out, just for a little while, to see if he can learn anything. Let me know if that's something you'd be interested in.


End file.
